The Wedding
by Burgundy Dahlia
Summary: Set in the AU timeline in Cursed Child where Ron marries Padma, it's Ron's wedding day and everyone is happy. Almost too happy. And why shouldn't they be? But when Ron steps away for a moment to try and calm his nerves, he runs into an old friend and they have a quiet moment of reflection together. (Written as a prologue to an upcoming WIP to be posted later).


Hi everyone! So, a quick background to this story: I have some really intense mixed feelings about The Cursed Child - feelings that I won't dive into here because it would be annoying and exhausting for anyone trying to read this. However, I've had this story idea in my head about the AU plot line where Ron marries Padma and Hermione becomes a DADA professor at Hogwarts for a while now. I've been outlining and agonizing over it for months, and while I'm still working on the fic as a whole, I did write this prologue of sorts and decided that instead of waiting until I get more of the main story written to post it, I would post it as a super angsty Romione one-shot. So, I hope you like it, that it breaks your heart like it did mine, and that you'll stick around for the forthcoming full fic! (Oh, and please leave a comment if you're feeling so inclined. They're ever so lovely to see.) xoxo - Burgundy Dahlia

* * *

 _The Wedding_

The evening air was balmy and thick, hanging heavily over the guests as they milled about inside the large, white tent. Music rang out through the yard, echoing off the hills in the distance, punctuated by the occasional roar of laughter as people enjoyed the party. They moved like a school of fish – one large group, swaying mindlessly in time to the beat and in almost perfect unison, completely unaware of their surroundings, including the absence of one tall, coppery haired man.

Ron walked aimlessly through the yard, staring at the grass in front of his shuffling feet with his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his cream and maroon sherwani dress robes. He had felt like such a fool when he'd first put them on – and the muttered comments from George about how he looked like he was wearing a set of old curtains hadn't helped the already overwhelming sense of discomfort he was grappling with. But Padma had loved them so much when he'd tried them on, so Ron had merely reminded himself for the umpteenth time that the wedding was supposed to be her day and swallowed his embarrassment as he gave her a tight lipped smile. It just this once, right?

The entire day had moved at breakneck speed, at times leaving Ron completely in the dust and with no other choice but to let it run him over. But Padma was happy, and so were her family, and his too. Everyone was happy, and why shouldn't they be? It was a wedding – a celebration, and a massive one at that. Nothing could put a damper on today, and there was nothing to feel anxious over – nothing at all. This was good and right and she was happy.

Everyone was so _happy_.

Almost _too_ happy.

But why should he feel anything close to restless or uneasy or unsure? That would be ridiculous – laughable, really. It was fine. He was _fine_. Everything was fine –

"Ron?"

Her voice floated to him from far away, wrapping him tightly in its cadence and for a moment, he felt solid and secure. He looked up and smiled as he saw her sitting on a rickety old bench, her brow creased curiously as she watched him.

"Hey, Hermione," he said and watched as she stood up, the soft, lilac material of her dress floating around her like a cloud.

"What are you doing out here?"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Needed some air. It feels like there's a million people in there."

Hermione gave a small, knowing smile. "I heard your mum telling your Aunt Muriel there are over 250 people just from Padma's side."

"I don't think I know any of them, either."

"Well, you know her immediate family, at least," Hermione offered and Ron shook his head, grimacing slightly.

"I s'pose. But..."

"But what?"

"I – it's – nothing," he spluttered unconvincingly as he shoved his hands back into his pockets again. Hermione cocked her head to the side as she watched him, her arms folded across her chest, and an eyebrow raised appraisingly. It was such a familiar and shockingly normal thing that Ron instantly felt lighter and laughed.

"What?" she asked defensively, her expression turning sour and Ron fought to stifle his laughter.

"I'm glad I ran into you out here, is all," he said with a shrug. "Helped calm my nerves seeing you."

Hermione's eyes went wide for a moment and she looked away, her cheeks tinged pink.

"I don't know what you have to feel nervous about," Hermione said as she gently wrung her hands. "The difficult part is over. You should be in there enjoying yourself. It's your party, remember?"

"No, it's not," Ron said as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, a half smile tugging at his lips. "This whole thing is for her and her family. I'm just doing what they tell me to."

Hermione stared at him curiously again, her hands still moving restlessly in front of her. Ron watched as her long fingers folded over themselves again and again. Realizing he was staring, he cleared his throat loudly.

"You look great," he said in an overly bright tone and watched as Hermione's hands stilled in front of her. "Your hair especially looks really nice. Softer than how you usually have it."

"Oh," Hermione said, her voice higher than usual and her cheeks now fully flushed. "Thank you." She bit her lower lip lightly and Ron watched as the skin turned white from the pressure. "You look nice, too."

"George says I look like a tosser. I reckon he's right."

"George is an idiot," Hermione said, annoyance edging into her tone.

"I hate the color," Ron said, pushing an unsteady hand through his hair. "But Padma liked it and it was hard to say no when her mum and her sister were going barmy over the whole thing, too."

Hermione tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looked up at Ron under a canopy of dark lashes. He watched, mesmerized, as the dangling lilac earrings she wore twinkled in the moonlight.

"You look very handsome, Ron."

Now it was his turn to blush as he felt his ears go red and his face go hot. From inside the tent, there was a burst of raucous laughter and tinkling of glass. Ron toed at a patch of grass in front of him and watched as Hermione began kneading her hands together again. As they stood quietly, the music floating out over of the yard changed, and the warbling voice of Celestina Warbeck echoed through the valley. His ears still burning, Ron gave Hermione a lopsided smile.

"D'you wanna dance?"

Hermione snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes wide.

"What?"

Ron gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug.

"It's a wedding. You're supposed to dance at these things, right?"

"Well, yes, but you're the _groom_ ," she stammered as she tucked her hair behind her ear again. "You should be dancing with the bride, not – "

"Aw, come on, Hermione," Ron pressed taking a small step towards her. "I want to dance with you." He held a hand out towards her. "Please?"

Hermione stared at his hand warily, biting at her bottom lip again. Then with a somewhat dramatic roll of her eyes and a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she carefully stepped towards him and placed her hand in his.

Ron beamed down at her, finally feeling at ease for the first time all day. He carefully wrapped an arm around her waist and although he had to fight to stifle the shiver that went up his spine as Hermione pressed her body against his, they began to sway slowly to the music.

"You're much better at this than I remember," Hermione commented and Ron chuckled.

"It was a pretty low bar to begin with," Ron replied and watched as Hermione fought to hide a smile. "I must have stepped on your toes at least twenty times at the Yule Ball. Don't know how you didn't bite my head off."

"It wasn't twenty times," Hermione said with an exasperated sigh. "It was maybe two or three. And it wasn't like you were doing it on purpose."

"No, I definitely wasn't." Ron paused for a beat before adding, "I stepped on Padma's feet, too, you know."

"When, tonight?" Hermione asked.

"No. At the Yule Ball."

"Well, it doesn't seem to have bothered her that much in the long run," Hermione said quietly and Ron shook his head.

"I don't know. She kept bringing it up before the wedding. Said she wanted me to take dance lessons."

"Did you?"

"No, but she doesn't know that."

" _Ron_ –"

"I know, I know. I'm a lousy boyfriend."

Hermione stopped abruptly, staring up at him with a peculiar look on her face. For a moment, Ron thought he saw a flash of sadness pass over her features.

"You're not her boyfriend anymore…" Hermione said slowly and Ron felt his stomach plummet momentarily.

"Oh. Right."

They stared at each other, neither speaking nor daring to move. From across the yard, Ron could vaguely make out the lyrics to the song as it travelled along the breeze.

 _Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone?_

 _It's left me for a spell…_

"Hermione –" Ron started, but stopped abruptly.

As Ron looked into Hermione's eyes, he felt the breath leave his body and a million thoughts dashed through his brain, each fighting to come to the front. But as he stood there, his arm still wrapped securely around her waist and his hand still holding hers, a feeling of dread began to crawl up his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Are you okay, Ron?" Hermione asked cautiously, her voice small as she searched his face. Ron nodded quickly, gripping her tighter to him.

"Yeah, I…" he chuckled nervously and nodded again. "This day's been a bit mad, is all." Slowly, they began swaying to the music again. Another burst of laughter could be heard from the tent and Ron sighed. "I'm really glad I ran into you out here."

"You said that already," Hermione said quietly. Ron glanced down at her.

"I know."

They moved in unison. Ron was distinctly aware of the thudding of his heart in his chest and the softness of Hermione's hand in his. Her hair smelled slightly floral and sweet and Ron closed his eyes briefly as he breathed in.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you happy?"

Her voice came out as a whisper and Ron felt his chest constrict slightly at the sound. The whole day had been a whirlwind of emotions and anxiety, leaving him desperate for a moment of peace. And here, dancing quietly with Hermione, away from the swarms of people and his family and the heavy weight of expectations, he finally felt calm. He swallowed hard as he brought his face closer to hers, hiding his nose in her hair and breathing in the sweet swirl of her scent. He closed his eyes again.

"Yes," he said softly.

He felt her nod against him before carefully dropping her head onto his chest. Ron let his chin rest on the top of her hair, only vaguely aware that they had stopped dancing and were now standing still, their hands still clasped tightly between the two of them as they held each other.

He couldn't be sure how long they stood like that – a few seconds, an hour, months that melted into years – but the sound of a soft sob brought Ron crashing back to reality. Reluctantly, he pulled his head off the top of Hermione's and peered down at her, his brow furrowed in concern. Hermione shook her head, refusing to look at him as she took her hand off his shoulder to swipe hastily at the tears now falling down her face.

"I'm sorry – I'm being ridiculous," she said thickly, a pained smile stretched across her face.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but felt a lump in his throat and instead said nothing.

"I'm really happy for you, Ron," she continued, sniffling quietly as she still avoided his gaze. "You deserve to be happy."

Ron cleared his throat and swallowed painfully. "We both do, Hermione," he said roughly.

"Yes, yes, of course," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Ron's brow furrowed even deeper and using the hand still holding hers, he tilted her face up towards him. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and as Ron held her gaze, he felt something shift inside him – it was as though he could suddenly see another path in front of him. A different life, if only he had paid any attention and seen what was standing right in front of him. If only he hadn't been so afraid to rock the boat or to disappoint those around him.

If only…

A voice travelled across the yard, shattering the delicate air surrounding them and both Ron and Hermione turned their heads toward the sound. Inside the tent, looking out across the space stood Padma, wrapped elegantly in a stunning red and gold saree, her eyes scanning the distance for him.

Hermione abruptly took a step backwards and away from him.

"You should go back inside. You don't want to keep her waiting…" she said as she stared in the direction of the tent where Padma stood.

"Right," he said, his mouth suddenly dry.

He looked down and noticed their hands were still gently clasped between them and felt his ears go hot again. Hermione turned back to face him and when she noticed his gaze, she let her eyes fall to their hands as well. With one small, brief squeeze, she pulled them away. Ron watched as her long fingers slipped out from his and at the loss of contact, he felt a small pang of regret.

"Congratulations," Hermione said in a brittle voice, a thin smile crossing her face. "Your wife is lovely, Ron."

Her words hung in the air, creating an invisible barrier between them. Ron opened his mouth to respond, but Padma's voice called out to him again and he glanced uneasily in her direction. He turned back to Hermione and gave her what he hoped was a lighthearted smile.

"Thanks, Hermione. For everything."

Hermione shrugged.

"What are friends for?"

And with another small pang deep inside his chest, Ron turned away from Hermione and began walking back towards the tent and towards his wife. As he crossed the yard, he could feel her eyes on him, but he fought the urge to turn back and look at her. And as the crowd and the music got louder with each step, he listened as the last lyrics of the song swam around his head.

 _…_ _and now you've torn it quite apart_

 _I'll thank you to give back my heart!_


End file.
